To those few, those lucky few, that band of siblings

Apart from my team travelling badly and apart from loathing the experience of live Richmond matches, I was also extremely tired by Saturday evening. A few hours of door-knocking for the Greens in Preston and a couple more at a party where I knew very few people was enough to wear me out. Oh, and I’d had a big week too. So I was never very likely to go last Saturday night. I wish that I had and I take my hat off to the 36 thousand who did.

Apart from my team travelling badly and apart from loathing the experience of live Richmond matches, I was also extremely tired by Saturday evening. A few hours of door-knocking for the Greens in Preston and a couple more at a party where I knew very few people was enough to wear me out. Oh, and I’d had a big week too. So I was never very likely to go last Saturday night.

I wish that I had and I take my hat off to the 36 thousand who did. Sydney, many commentators were saying, were the best team in the competition. Richmond were not the worst, but they were certainly in the mix. So how likely was it that we could beat them? Sure, we have a good record against them: beating them in Sydney last year after being five goals down at half time, beating them in an excruciatingly close finish in the last round of 2014 to make the finals, beating them at the ‘G a year or two before that. But that’s when we were quite good. And Sydney rested half their team in the 2014 game…

In any case the Swans began well this time and had three goals on the board before we knew which way we were kicking. But then an odd thing happened and we actually started to play quite well. Franklin was rampant but Rance stuck with him and limited the damage. We fought and scrapped and got the ball into the forward line and set up countless chances. Most of these we squandered. From near and far, tight angles and straight in front. Through for a behind the ball went. In no time we had our first “point goal” – six behinds for our trouble. But despite all the misses, at quarter time we were only ten points down and at the half-time break – this we could not believe sitting in comfort on the couch – we were five points up.

The breaks are when I’m really glad I’m not at the ground. Even at home you can hear the spruiker and the music obliterate the crowd noise. Tiger fans were not doubt roaring their heroes off the ground, but nobody could hear them, not at home on the couch, not in the outer at the ‘G.

In the third term our terrible kicking reached another level. We added 1.5 to the Swans 5.4 and trailed by three goals at the last break. Football’s oldest and truest clichés surely applied – bad kicking is bad football and the third quarter is the premiership quarter. Lose that and you’re stuffed.

But something truly bizarre happened at the start of the last term. The Tigers burst from the blocks and kicked goal after goal. Rioli got two of them – how many years have we needed a Rioli? – and we were right back in it. But Sydney steadied and kicked away again and there were only a few minutes left and they were two goals up. Then Jack won the footy in the maelstrom much closer to the Swans’ goal than to ours and kicked it perfectly to the advantage of the helmed Griffiths. For a big man he moved like the smallest gazelle, chased by his equally helmed and large opponent. The ball bounced, Griffo grabbed it and took off, one bounce inside the 50 and then kicked it, along the ground, straight as the road to Lockington, right through the big ones.

Five points now and four minutes to go. Sydney attacked, Richmond attacked. Twice Rance performed heroics to save the game for us. Or was it thrice? Still, it was not enough. Sydney had the ball and attacked again. We won it again, Sydney won it back. Only a minute left. Then less than a minute.

Sydney had the footy, forward of the centre and chose, in the most sporting way imaginable, not to kick it wide or backwards to one of several un-marked team-mates but instead into attack again, into a contest from where it was wrestled free by the much-maligned and poorly-pronounced Vlaustin who roosted it out of the back-line.

It landed close to Riewoldt and took what Dimma would call “the bounce of God” straight into his lap. But, as Dimma said too, you make your own luck sometimes. Jack saw Griffo again running into the forward line and kicked an inch-perfect kick to him. The helmed one took it easily, 65 meters out. Seconds left could be counted on my fingers. Should he roost it? He’s a big kick but the angle was bad. Should he go for another run? But the Swans were getting back and it would be tough for him. One tackle, one mis-step and the chance would be gone.

Three facts might have occurred to the pessimist at this point, not that any of that ilk have a place at Richmond: we haven’t won a game since March; we have an awful record in close games; our set shot kicking is abysmal.
But our heroes did not have time for such maudlin rubbish.

Sam Lloyd, the boy from Deniliquin, loped into the forward 50 and called for it. Griffo kicked over the man on his mark and Lloydy marked, 45 from goal on a worse than 45 degree angle. Seven seconds left.
On the couch we were beside ourselves. I think I was sobbing already. Griffo walked over to Lloydy and said – so we learned later – “three deep breaths and keep your head over the ball.” The young feller settled himself, wasted no time, walked in and kicked from the 50.

A straighter, higher, truer, more beautiful kick has never, ever, in any sport, at any time on any planet ever been kicked. It went high and it went handsome and split the big sticks as elegantly as if they’d been a block of straight-grained red box beneath your grandfather’s axe.

I was openly sobbing by now. Lloyd was buried beneath an avalanche of team-mates. The Tiger supporters went nuts. The song rang out and the supporters were allowed to sing it once, as they are allowed to now, not twice like before. Who cared? All was right with the world. Rance said in a one-minute interview “I love this team!” three times. We said it to ourselves and to each other many more times and are saying it still.

Comments

Well said Brendan. I also watched it at home, it was one for the ages. So many key moments packed into that last 90 seconds. Its a magnificent boost and as we now go into a stretch of winnable games, God knows what it will do to the boys’ confidence. I can feel that slow-acting poison called hope creeping into the bloodstream.

Where’s Lockington? Lovely piece, Brendan. My heart was racing as I was reading it. Like you, I chose not to be at the game, but unlike you I didn’t even watch it on the TV. It was so surreal; wasn’t even checking scores; then to find out they’d won by a point! And such perfect scores: 100 to 101. Wasn’t until getting lift home that realised it was after the siren. All that excitement, and I missed the lot.
A nicely observed match report, thanks for sharing

I really enjoyed this piece Brendan.
One of my favourite moments from the celebrations was seeing how quickly Jack started celebrating and acknowledging the crowd. You cannot fabricate that kind of emotion or gesture.
I caught the last minute on the radio on the train in the middle of nowhere in the Netherlands and what struck me was how quickly Lloyd took the kick; the commentators had barely announced that he was lining up and then it became apparent that it was a goal. I then used up almost all of my battery while watching replays of the kick and the last two minutes on the AFL’s website.

Although everyone says he’s such a certainty on set shots, Lloyd missed his first (very gettable) set shot. For his second he definitely decided to play on and treat it like a goal on the run, and he nailed it. He couldn’t do that for his third set shot after the siren; I was nervous but he knew what to do, Griffo had a word in his ear (traces of leadership perhaps) and he executed the skill. Magnifico.

Sometimes I think perhaps it’s more exciting to follow a crap team that occaisionally throws up an unexpected exhilarating moment than it would be to follow a team that’s consistently and boringly successful (like those turd-birds, for example). Or, at least, this is what I’ve frequently have to tell my poor son in his frequent dejected moments of Richmond-supporter-by-birth misery. It’s character building, following a team like the Tiges. And, for me, last Saturday night’s game was far more exciting than most grand finals.

I was lucky to be at the game, and sans radio, didn’t know exactly how much time was left. I was expecting it at any moment for the last 2-3 minutes, so the tension was different but just as real! The siren was both a relief (to know this was it no matter what, the Swans couldn’t score any more) and agony – it had come down to that final kick, a shot on goal. It was all in our hands. And the team did it beautifully.

Emily, thanks for sharing. I like your point about the relief when the siren went. Watching the last quarter on a taped broadcast, knowing the result, in the last two minutes it was hard to work out how Richmond could possibly win. I said to my partner, I think I would be too nervous watching this if I didn’t know the result. Sometimes when I watch the game live on television (as I usually would) I find myself curled up in a knot of tension on the floor.
I can take days to unravel.
“And the team did it beautifully”. It’s a line that sings, hopefully for many more weeks to come

There was a time in the last quarter where I turned to Andy beside me and said
“we can’t do this… can we do this? … we can still do this… we can do this…”.

The minutes ticked away, and we had plenty of chances with the ball somewhere between wing and half forward on the outer side. But it came out to Sydney’s end of the ground and that’s when you think its not going to happen. You think of the ‘stories’ they will write – about brittle resolve and fragile minds… again.

But we forced it forward again and the wonderful stuff of footy fell our way and all were rejoicing… cheers, songs, strangers hugging, and cats and dogs getting married. So the earlier season narrative is no longer. And they shouldn’t have been written anyway. Richmond is better, stronger and tougher than three seasons ago.

I don’t buy the narrative that we have reverted back. I don’t agree a team could come so far over seasons, and yet regress back in a single summer.
Sterner stuff inside these Tigers.

Dugald , Lockington is SW from Echuca, NW from Rochester. And as Brendan states, ALL roads to Lockington are straighter than Fred Nile. A great description that will get used by me (travel there for work).

Thanks Pete, next time I drive to Hay I’ll make to sure to go through Lockington. But is Hay north or south of the Barassi Line?
Actually, reckon I could go through Lockington to get to Deniliquin and that’s where I really want to be.
Used to go camping on the banks of the Edward River outside Deni every Easter. Mum and dad would stop on the way back and buy a box of tomatoes at Rochester, for the annual Jellie family sauce-making.

Was at the game and when we hit the front in the last quarter, a little voice inside my head said: “They’re setting us up (for a fall)”. They set us up alright, for a moment of pure joy. What ever else happens this year, “we will always have Sydney”.

Felt the same way. Lost my voice somewhere in the third quarter, when my mate and I along with the two grizzled old platinum members in front of using the Ponsford had decided the third was symptomatic of everything that’s gone wrong: Sideshow Bob Tyrone in ruck is no Megan (it’s come to writing that), Zoolander Ellis (the blonde one) can’t turn right (he’s got no left), and kicks sideways and back as well as anyone; and for the love of Richo, could we kick an actual goal?

At various points in the last, I dared to dream, but when Franklin pumped the ball back in to the 50, low and straight, having threaded through 3 players, with two hanging off him, I thought we were cooked. Then Tigger shoved it on the boot, Jack hot-stepped and could it be…Griff! Lloydy!

I did my share of jumping up and down in 2014 in a mate’s living room, but nothing, -nothing- compared with the guttural roar that came from within on Saturday night. My son pretty much burst and I’ve never high fived as many people in as short a time. Total, sheer, utter joy.

And then home to discover the power was out – the TiVo had no love for the required last quarter instant-replay watch (like I was going to sleep after that). I’ve made up for it with the AFL Subscription since 😉

Great result, but crikey, we have to play more direct, braver, and in-general-aiming-at-the-goals football from the bounce from now on. I certainly hope the result, coupled with the contrast between third and fourth quarters helps the coaching staff and the playing group arrive on the same page from here on.

Magnificent piece of writing. Thank you. And glad to know I am not alone in hardly being able to watch my team play this season. If Anna hadn’t turned on the TV at three quarter time I would not have seen any of the game. And then I couldn’t keep my eyes off the screen! Five goals straight in five minutes. And such ferocity and intensity in the tackling and determination moving the ball forward! A few minutes from the end when we were two goals down I turned it off with a heavy heart but I live just close enough to the MCG to hear a mighty R-O-A-R and I turned the TV back on to see the reply of Lloydie (can we cal him Lloydie now?) kicking it and the unbelievable final score. What in earth has happened to our team this season is a mystery but as we saw on Saturday, when they’re in the zone they are as good as, or better than, anyone. But how do you get them into the zone and STAY there? Over to you Dimma.

Your description of the last 4 minutes was exact. Who could imagine so much could happen in 240 seconds!

Very sporting indeed of Dean Towers in making the game oh so the more interesting by ignoring Buddy out wide and choosing to kick to a contest. This sporting behaviour deserved another game this week. Obviously Horse thought otherwise and he was “omitted” when this week’s teams were announced Thursday afternoon.

In relation to belting out the song after the game, bring back multiple ‘plays’ of “Oh we’re from Tigerland….” I say! I remember the heady days of ’95 when I counted it played six times after a stirring win. The players would have been showered and onto their second jar by the time the song had finished being played…and replayed…and replayed…and

Smiles are hard to wipe off after these rare moments but I probably had more faith in young Sam Lloyd than anyone else on that team kicking for goal. He’s very calm and wanted the situation more than anyone else(which is a very rare feature to have), For seconds, minutes, hours, days and months to come later I still cant believe it has happened – mainly the fact we shouldn’t have won BUT WE DID!

Hope to show my future kids one of the happiest moments of my Richmond supporting life in years to come, My girlfriend might not though but she has seen me watch the last quarter about 50,000,000 times!